


a world with you

by alotofthingsdifferent



Series: think of all the doors we'll open [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2015-02-12
Packaged: 2018-03-12 03:18:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3341582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alotofthingsdifferent/pseuds/alotofthingsdifferent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jonny’s a full month into his internship at The Seabrook Foundation before he even meets the nonprofit's namesake.  He’s working late on a Friday night, putting the finishing touches on an upcoming fundraiser, when Brent Seabrook finally makes an appearance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a world with you

**Author's Note:**

> this came from a discussion with sarah about [this gif](http://media.tumblr.com/e3c2a313569175862859d90754bbb5e7/tumblr_nbtal6IwjN1qbltroo1_500.gif). it turned into many, many words. (much credit to sarah, especially one particular scene which I will not spoil but will just say, DESK.)

Jonny’s a full month into his internship at The Seabrook Foundation before he even meets the nonprofit's namesake.  He’s working late on a Friday night, putting the finishing touches on an upcoming fundraiser, when Brent Seabrook finally makes an appearance.

 

“It’s 8:00 on Friday night, kid, what are you still doing here?”

 

Jonny startles, banging his knee against his desk. “Shit,” he swears under his breath, his heart racing. “I’m uh -- just tying together some loose ends on the Cooking for Kids event,” he says to the guy currently leaning against the doorframe of his closet-sized office. His hair is dark and longish, and he’s got the hint of a beard shadowing his jaw.  He’s tall, with broad shoulders, and if they were out at a club, he’s the type of guy Jonny would find himself approaching with interest. But this is _work,_ Jonny reminds himself as he blinks up at the guy.

 

“Yeah?” the guy says, pushing off the frame to squeeze into the chair opposite Jonny’s. It’s a tight fit, and Jonny’s desk is littered with papers, but the guy doesn’t seem to mind. Jonny’s sure he hasn’t seen the guy around here before and wonders fleetingly if he’s new.  The guy leans in, his hands rifling through a stack of papers that outline the key points of the event. “Huh,” he says, nodding as he reads. “This is really good stuff. The kids’ll love it. How’d you get the Hawks to sign on?”

 

Jonny fights a smile, pleased with the compliment. Cooking for Kids had been his idea, something the Foundation had never done before, and he’d sold out the room within a week of the public relations announcement being published.  “Thanks,” he says. “I went to school with Patrick Kane, actually, so I, uh, made a call.” The guy’s grinning at Jonny, and it’s contagious. “Duncs -- uh, Mr. Keith -- got all the celebrity chefs in, though, so he deserves the credit on that one.”

 

The guy nods, flipping through another stack of papers. “Fantastic idea, kid. Heard you sold out the room.”

  
Jonny’s chest swells with pride, because fuck yeah, he did. He just nods, then reaches over the mess of papers to hold out his hand. “I’m Jonny, by the way. Jonny Toews.”

 

The guy’s still grinning as he takes Jonny’s hand in a firm grip. “I know who you are, Jonny. Been hearing a lot of good things.  I’m Brent Seabrook. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

 

Jonny’s eyes widen slightly as he sits back down, suddenly embarrassed by his own organized chaos. He can feel his cheeks burning as he fumbles to straighten the piles on his desk.

 

Brent laughs brightly. “Chill, Jonny.  I’d be more concerned if your desk _wasn’t_ covered in paper.” He stands and makes his way to the door. “Don’t work too late though, yeah? Can’t have my best intern getting burned out.”  And then he _winks_ at Jonny over his shoulder, and he’s gone.

 

Jonny leans back in his chair and blows out a breath.  He doesn’t know what he was expecting Mr. Seabrook to be like, but he does know that he wasn’t expecting _that._

 

He grabs his coat and locks his office door behind him. He’s not getting any more work done tonight anyway.

 

 

The week leading up to the event is crazy. Jonny's putting in extra hours nearly every day, but that's nothing new. What's different is that for the past three nights, Mr. Seabrook--"Call me Brent, Jonny. Jesus, I'm only 3 years older than you"--has been working late with him.

 

"So you'll see here, uh, we've added space for three more full tables, so if we can get them sold, it'll bring our total to..." His trails a fingertip down the list in front of him, punching numbers into a calculator with his other hand. "$184,000," he says, sitting back in his chair and huffing out a breath. "Wow." 

 

Brent laughs, holding his fist up to bump against Jonny's. "Wow is right, kid. Not bad for your first project. I'm proud of you." He reaches over the desk and claps Jonny on the shoulder, and Jonny flushes, proud.

 

They've spent the last few nights huddled over Jonny's desk, checking and rechecking vendor reservations, making calls to current donors confirming their attendance at the event.   Between phone calls and emails, Brent’s been quizzing Jonny on his background, smiling as Jonny regales him with stories about successful missionary trips and record-breaking fundraisers.

 

It’s 9:45 on Thursday night, the night before Cooking for Kids, and Jonny’s exhausted. “Thank you, Mr. Bettman, thank you so much. We’re looking forward to seeing you tomorrow evening.” He hangs up the phone and lets his head fall back onto his chair. “That was the last one,” he tells Brent, who stands up from his own chair and arches his back, stretching his arms over his head.

 

“Good job, kid. You’re a natural,” he says with a smile. “Making me really glad I chose you for this gig.”

 

Jonny stares up at him, gaping. “You -- what? What do you mean? I interviewed with Duncs and Sharpy.”

 

Brent laughs, reaching for his coat. “Well yeah, but why do you think you got through the door? I hand-picked you. Your experience is damn impressive, and Duncs and Sharpy said they knew the minute you sat down that you were the guy for the job.

 

Jonny’s kind of floored, and says as much.  “This is pretty much my dream internship,” he tells Brent earnestly. “So, y’know. Thank you for giving me a chance.”

 

“No need to thank me. You deserved the position. It was a no-brainer. Now c'mon, Jonny boy. We’ve worked hard enough for the day. Hell, for the month. Lets go grab a drink.”

 

“Oh,” Jonny says, ignoring the nagging voice in the back of his mind telling him that’s probably not the best idea. “Uh, I don’t know, it’s late, I should probably -- I mean, I usually like to get here bright and early in the morning, so --”

 

“I think the boss will understand if you’re a little late tomorrow,” Brent teases.

 

Jonny hesitates for a moment, but in the end he grabs his own coat and follows Brent out. Just one drink, he thinks. What’s the worst that could happen?

 

The worst that can happen, apparently, is that the place Brent chose is packed, and they’re pressed shoulder to shoulder at the bar. Also, Brent’s hair keeps falling in his eyes, and he smells really good, and all of it is really, really distracting.  Jonny’s trying really hard to keep his crush tamped down, but Brent keeps licking his lips and touching Jonny’s arm.

 

This is his _boss_. He should be fired, honestly, for the indecent thoughts that cross his mind every time Brent’s tongue peeks out between his lips. It’s not helping that Brent has basically spent the past hour complimenting Jonny’s _everything_ , going on about how brilliant he is, how he’s made for this kind of work.

 

“Seriously, man, we haven’t had a great, fresh idea in years,” he says. “The team works hard, and we’re incredibly successful just running all our annuals, but this thing you threw together is huge.”

 

Jonny can’t keep the flush from his cheeks, and he thinks that’s probably his cue that he should call it a night. He swallows the remainder of his drink and slides his empty glass across the bar, smiling as he thanks Brent for all the praise. He reaches in his pocket for his wallet, but Brent waves him off.

 

“Absolutely not,” Brent says.  “It’s on me.”  Jonny opens his mouth to argue, but Brent shakes his head.

 

“Thanks, Brent,” Jonny says as he stands to leave. “This was, uh. It was…”

  
Brent grins. “I think the word you’re looking for is _fun_ , Jonny. Remember fun? I’m sure you used to have it before you started working fifteen hour days for me.”

 

Jonny laughs and holds out a hand to Brent. “Yeah. I remember. See you tomorrow?”

 

Brents palm is soft and warm in Jonny’s as they shake goodbye. They lock eyes, and when Jonny goes to pull his hand from Brent’s grip, Brent squeezes, holding it there just a split-second longer than necessary.  Jonny swallows, nods once at Brent, and gets the hell out of there.

 

Later, when he’s got that same hand slicked up and wrapped around his cock, fucking into his fist, Jonny thinks about how _good_ Brent looked tonight, how he'd loosened his tie at the bar and shrugged out his suit coat, his broad shoulders on display for Jonny to see. He can't stop thinking about how interested Brent was in everything he had to say, how he listened intently and asked questions and seemed genuinely happy to be sitting there having a conversation with Jonny.  Brent's hand had been strong in his when they said goodbye, and Jonny comes hard imagining Brent’s skin pressed against his.

 

Which, needless to say, makes work a little awkward the next day. He ducks into his office unseen, sighing a relieved breath at not having run into Brent in the hall. He sets his coffee on his desk and hangs up his jacket, setting in to his day.

 

He’s startled from his concentration when Brent sticks his head through the door and shouts,  "Jonny-boy! Today's the big day!" Jonny's hand flies out, knocking over his cup of coffee. He watches helplessly as it seeps into a stack of papers, what's not being absorbed dripping from the edge of his desk and onto his lap.

 

"Shit, I'm sorry man, didn't mean to scare you," Brent apologizes, ducking out of the door frame and reappearing a minute later with a handful of napkins. He leans over Jonny's desk to pat up the mess, freezing when he sees the wet spot on Jonny's leg. "Uh. Fuck, I'm so sorry," he says, thrusting a dry napkin in Jonny's direction.

 

Jonny takes the napkin and shakes his head as he presses it to his pants. "It's fine. Really. I was just in a zone, I guess," he says, and it's mostly true. If by "being in a zone" he meant he was staring at the wall, thinking about Brent's mouth.

 

He feels his cheeks flush and avoids Brent's eyes, picking up the wet papers from his desk and making sure they're unimportant before tossing them in his recycling.

 

"Everything ok?" Brent asks, looking at Jonny questioningly.

 

"What? No, yeah, everything's fine. Just, uh, I don't know, maybe a little nervous about tonight," he lies.

 

Brent smiles sympathetically. "Yeah, I hear that. You'll be great, though, you've worked your ass of on this thing."

 

Jonny nods, turning pink again.

 

"Alright, so, I guess I'll see you tonight then? Unless you wanna grab lunch later, we could do that."

 

"No!" Jonny answers, a little too quickly. "No, I mean, uh, I'm going to run out on lunch to pick up my tux, so. Just gonna grab food on the way back." Brent gives him a look, but he doesn't press for more.

 

When he's gone, Jonny stares at the ceiling and gives serious consideration to banging his head against the wall.

 

\--

 

The event goes off without a hitch.  The looks on the faces of the kids who are cooking dinner with Patrick Kane and his team are priceless, and Jonny can’t seem to stop smiling. 

 

Patrick’s group finishes their first course, and Jonny uses the break in action to say hello.

 

“Kaner,” Jonny says, extending a hand. “Thanks again for doing this, man, I owe you one.”

 

Patrick smiles and pulls Jonny into a tight hug, clapping him twice on the back. “Are you kidding? This is awesome, man. So cool to see these kids to excited, y’know?”

 

Jonny nods in agreement, turning his head when he feels a warm hand pressed to his lower back. His heart skips a few beats when he’s met with Brent’s smiling face.

 

“Jonny,” he says, nodding his head in greeting before holding out his hand to Patrick. “Patrick Kane,” he says, “it’s a real pleasure. I’m Brent Seabrook.”

 

Jonny watches at they shake hands, distracted by the fact that Brent’s other hand is still resting on his back. “Jonny tells me the two of you went to school together,” he hears Brent say, and Patrick’s lips are moving but Jonny can’t concentrate on anything he’s saying.

 

Brent’s hand finally drops back to his side and he flashes Jonny a grin. “I’ll leave you to your friend,” he says, “But find me later, we can talk shop. It was nice to you meet you, Mr. Kane. Thanks again for doing this.”

 

“Not a problem,” Patrick says to Brent’s retreating form, and then his eyes are on Jonny, dancing with amusement.

  
“What?” Jonny snaps, folding his arms over his chest.

 

“When were you planning on telling me you have a thing for your boss?”

 

“Shut up!” Jonny hisses, eyes darting around nervously. “I don’t have a thing for my boss.”

 

Patrick just looks at him with a knowing smirk on his face. “Sure, Jonny.”

 

“I don’t! And even if I did,” he says, “it would be totally unprofessional and out of the question.”

 

Patrick laughs. “You’re still such a fucking boy scout, man,” he teases. “Live a little! He clearly has his eyes on you too.”

 

“He does not!” Jonny urges, flushing red. “He’s my _boss_ , Kaner. My BOSS!”

 

As he says it, he happens to catch sight of Brent in the background, over Patrick’s shoulder. He’s chatting animatedly with Mr. Bettman, and when his eyes meet Jonny’s, he winks before going back to his conversation.

 

Jonny nearly chokes.

 

Patrick laughs again, patting Jonny on the shoulder sympathetically. “Look on the bright side, man. Internships don’t last forever.”

 

Jonny groans and covers his face with his hands.

 

\--

 

Two weeks later, his crush has only worsened.  He’d managed to escape from the event unscathed, but since then, Brent has been a constant fixture in the office. Jonny can’t remember him ever being around this much, and when he asks Sharpy about it, even he admits to it being a little odd.

 

“I don’t know, man,” Sharpy says. “Usually he’s travelling this time of year, rubbing elbows with celebrities and making connections, know what I mean? Maybe there’s just not much going on?”

 

But Jonny knows that’s not true. He’s been fielding calls from organizations from across the country asking for a moment of Brent’s time, and if Brent’s returning their messages, he hasn’t made an effort to set up any meetings. Jonny supposes it’s possible that he’s conducting all his business by phone, but history tells him that it’s not the norm for Brent. 

 

“Yo Jonny,” Duncs says, shaking him from his thoughts. “You got a minute?”

 

“Yeah, you wanna sit, or?”

 

Duncs shakes his head, and Jonny suddenly notices the serious look on his face. “C’mon down to my office yeah?”

 

Jonny swallows the ball of nerves that’s forming at the base of this throat and pushes back from his desk, following Duncs down the hall. He realizes, with a small sense of relief, that Brent’s left for the day, but the dread in his belly returns when Duncs asks him to shut the door behind him.

 

“Uh. Everything ok?” Jonny asks, wringing his hands as he sits down across from Duncs.

 

Duncs sighs softly, looking at Jonny like this is the last place he wants to be. “I was going over the numbers from the Cooking for Kids event,” he starts, and that’s when Jonny notices the papers spread over Duncs’ desk, most of them covered in red circles and check marks. He swallows again, raising his eyes to meet Duncs'. 

 

“What did I fuck up?” Jonny asks miserably.  Duncs just chuckles, throwing Jonny a sympathetic glance.

 

“It’s not the end of the world, but,” Duncs says, turning one of the papers so Jonny can read. “These funds here,” he says, pointing to one of the red circles. “They were meant for a completely different charity. And these over here,” he says, pointing to another, “were meant to stay here, for future distribution.”

 

Jonny feels all the blood drain from his face. Not the end of the world? Duncs has got to be kidding. That’s a _lot_ of fucking money, and now they were going to figure out how to move it all around without short-changing any of the worthy groups the money was supposed to be going to. 

 

He feels sick to his stomach. How could he have fucked up so badly? He knows he’s been distracted lately, but he can’t blame it on that. He’s a professional, he should _know_ better.

 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “Fuck, Duncs, I’m so sorry, I’ll figure out a way to make this right, I promise.”

 

Duncs gives him a small smile and collects the papers into a pile, handing them over to Jonny. “Yeah. You will.”

 

“So I’m not fired?” Jonny blurts, unable to stop himself.

 

Duncs sits back in his chair and laughs. “Are you kidding me? Seabs would kill me.”

 

Jonny flushes red and stands up quickly, taking the papers from Duncs. “Thank you, Duncan. Seriously. I’m so sorry.”

 

Duncs waves a hand. “We all make mistakes, kid. Just fix it, yeah? And hey, if it matters -- I’m not gonna tell Brent. Just make it right.”

 

Jonny gives him a firm nod, grateful,  and locks himself in his office, determined to stay there until he gets himself out of this mess.

 

Hours later, he’s alone in the building, bleary-eyed and exhausted  His hair sticking up in three different places from running his fingers through it in frustration, and he’s no closer to fixing the problem than he was five hours ago.  A glance at his phone tells him it’s nearly 9:00, and he bites back a yawn, rubbing the heels of his hands against his eyes.  

 

The numbers on the pages in front of him are all a blur now, and the glow from his computer is doing nothing for the headache that’s forming at the base of his skull.  He is so fucked.

 

The sound of knuckles rapping on his door startles him out of his daze. “Jonny? You in there?”

 

His heart pounds as he pushes back from his desk and tries to smooth down his hair. Shit, he thinks, this is not happening. “Uh, yeah! Yeah, hang on,” he says, reaching out to unlock the door. He pulls it open slowly, peeking out at Brent.

 

“Uh. Hi?”

 

“Hi,” Jonny says, forcing a smile.

 

“What’s -- is everything ok? What are you still doing here?”

 

“Uh, yeah?” Jonny says, but he knows how it sounds. He palms the back of his own neck, a thin sheen of sweat forming at his hairline. “It’s all good. Just uh, you know. Finishing some stuff up.”

 

Brent eyes him curiously. “Finishing what up? Our next major isn’t for a couple of months, and you’re not the lead.”

 

One look into Brent’s eyes, and Jonny’s an open book. He tells Brent about his mistake, how he can’t figure out what he needs to do to fix it. He apologizes a hundred times, waving at the mess of papers on his desk.

 

“Jonny,” he hears Brent say, but he can’t stop blabbering, telling Brent it will never happen again, but he’ll understand if Brent has to let him go. “Jonny!” Brent says, reaching out to shake him by the shoulder. Jonny notices that he’s laughing, and he’s mildly offended. He heaves a sigh and hangs his head as he leans back against his desk.

 

“Fuck,” he says, and then he’s staring at Brent’s shoes as he steps into Jonny’s space. 

 

“Jonny,” he says again. “Calm the fuck down, yeah? I’m not going to fire you, jesus.” He leans in, so close that Jonny can feel the heat from his body, and reaches around him. He can hear Brent scribbling, and not even a minute later, he’s back where he started, standing in front of Jonny. The tips of their shoes are nearly touching.  “There. It’s fixed.”

 

Jonny’s jaw drops. “ _What?”_

 

“I’ve been through this before, man. I know what I’m doing. Stop beating yourself up.”

 

“So you’re not going to fire me?” he asks, his voice small.

 

Their eyes lock, and the air around them is electric. Jonny can feel it; he knows there’s something between them. “Fuck no,” Brent breathes out. “You’re the best intern I’ve ever had.”

 

There’s a split-second of silence, of both of them frozen in place, and then Jonny’s up on his desk, Brent’s legs pushed between his thighs and Brent’s mouth on his. It’s amazing, it’s better than any kiss Jonny can remember having, and he savors the feel of Brent’s strong arms under his hands, the shift and flex of muscles in Brent’s back as Jonny’s hands roam his body.

 

Brent breaks the kiss, panting, and Jonny whimpers, missing the slide of Brent’s tongue against his. This is it, he thinks, this is where Brent kicks him out of here, accuses him of breaching company ethics, tells Jonny to find a new job. 

 

Instead, Brent’s reaching around him to sweep everything on the desk to the floor in a very dramatic fashion. Jonny’s eyes widen and Brent crowds back into his space, easing him back onto the desk, laying him out.

 

His thighs bracket Jonny’s hips as he leans down, crushing their mouths together, kissing Jonny so hard it almost hurts. Jonny gasps into it, clawing at Brent’s back, urging him closer.

 

“Fuck,” Brent groans as he mouths at Jonny’s jaw. Jonny gasps when Brent’s teeth sink in. “Can’t stop thinking about you,  Jonny, _fuck,”_ and yeah, Jonny knows the feeling.   He’s hard in his jeans, wants Brent to take his cock out and fuck him so hard he forgets his own name.

 

“Yeah,” he moans, “yeah, Brent, c’mon,” and his brain shorts out when Brent finally works his jeans open and wraps a hand around his cock.  His hips come up off the desk and he shoves at his pants, getting them down around his thighs so Brent can touch him.

 

He almost goes off right then when Brent sinks to his knees, kissing and biting his way up Jonny’s thighs.  He tangles his fingers in Brent’s hair, tightening his grip when he feels Brent’s lips on his shaft. “ _Shit,_ ” he gasps, and Brent fucking _grins_ before licking a slow line up Jonny’s cock and wrapping his lips around the head. Jonny arches up off the desk, one arm flailing out and knocking his keyboard from the surface. It clatters to the floor and Jonny’s eyes fly open, shaking him from his lusty haze.

 

“We...we can’t,” he whispers, grasping for whatever willpower he has left. “Brent,” he whines. “Brent, we _can’t_. You’re my _boss_.”

 

Brent freezes and Jonny’s hand drops from his hair, coming down with a thud on the desk.  Their eyes meet, and Brent looks stricken, like he completely forgot.  He looks as horrified as Jonny feels, and that makes everything even worse.

 

Jonny sits up on his elbows, his cheeks red from more than just arousal. Brent scrambles to his feet, running a shaky hand through his hair. “Jonny, I’m so sorry. You’re -- this was. ”  he looks pained, and Jonny would like nothing more than to say _forget it, i didn’t mean it, please come back_.  He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “This was completely inappropriate.”

 

“No!” Jonny says with a shake of his head. “No, I’m not -- it’s not not like I don’t _want_ to.” He’s thinking of Brent, of his stellar career, of how bad this could look for him. 

 

“No, you’re right,” Brent says, and he’s suddenly Mr. Seabrook, consummate professional.  Jonny wants to shake him. Wants to feel the press of Brent’s body against his own, trembling like he was just a few minutes ago. “This was completely unprofessional of me, and I’m sorry.” He gives Jonny one last longing, apologetic glance, and he’s gone, leaving Jonny with his dick hanging out of his pants and regret rolling in his stomach. 

 

\--

 

The months that follow are, in a word, torture.  Jonny’s got his nose buried in work, second lead on their winter event, but because the event is one of their biggest of the year, Brent’s around a lot.  He’s nothing but professional, guiding Jonny through the tasks involved with planning the event, nothing if not an amazing mentor.  Jonny’s learning more than he’d ever hoped to learn, and he’s grateful to Brent (and Sharpy and Duncs) for that.

 

He’s miserable.

 

Brent avoided the office for a week after The Incident, as Jonny refers it in his head. Duncs told him Brent had flown to California for a few days on business, but Jonny knew that wasn’t true. He booked all Brent’s travel, and there was nothing on the schedule. Jonny moped around in silence, kicking himself for messing things up so badly. 

 

When he’d returned, it was almost as if nothing had happened. Almost, because every time Brent walked by his office, Jonny’s brain flashed back to the night Brent had him laid out across the desk, mouthing his cock. He got a few weird looks when he started working in the break room, but no one asked any questions.

 

Until today. It’s the day of the company Christmas party at Brent’s house,  and Jonny’s crowded over the table, trying to keep his files away from the box of donuts Sharpy brought in that morning.  His laptop is half-open on his legs, and his neck is starting to throb from the awkward position. He stretches, closing his eyes when he hears a soft “pop” in his neck.

 

When he opens his eyes, Brent is standing there. He’s got a week-old beard darkening his face, and Jonny doesn’t think he’s had a haircut in months. He really wishes he didn’t find it so sexy.

 

His cheeks go pink and he clears his throat, nodding once at Brent.

 

“Hey, Jonny,” Brent starts. “I can’t, uh. I can’t help but notice that you haven’t really been, uh. Using your office. For awhile now.”

 

Jonny swallows. “Yeah, uh. It was just a little. Cramped?” he tries, but he known Brent’s not buying it. The break room is smaller than his office.

  
“Cramped,” Brent replies, and Jonny nods, avoiding his eyes. “You don’t look very comfortable in here either.”

 

“Oh, it’s fine,” Jonny says, waving a dismissive hand. “I’m making it work.”

 

Brent stares at him for a long moment before breathing out a quiet sigh. “Ok, Jonny. Whatever works for you. I’ll see you tonight, yeah?” 

  
“Yeah, I’ll be there.”

“Good. Good,” Brent replies, and then, “Are you, uh. Are you bringing anyone? A date?”

 

Jonny snorts out a sad laugh, shaking his head. “No, man. No date. Just me.”

 

He doesn’t miss the flush on Brent’s cheeks as he nods and leaves Jonny to it.

 

 

In hindsight, he thinks, as he downs the last of his beer and tries to disappear into the background of the party, he should have known.

 

He should have known, when Brent asked about him bringing someone to the party, that something was up.

 

Because as it turns out, Brent’s the one with a date.

 

Jonny kind of wants to throw up.

 

When Brent had answered the door, Jonny’d gone a little weak in the knees.  He stood there in dark jeans and a soft grey sweater, his face clean-shaved and his hair a little shorter than it had been that afternoon.. Jonny’s fingers itched to reach out and touch, to grab Brent by the belt loops and haul him in.  He could almost feel Brent’s mouth on his, the memory of that night in his office searing-hot in his brain.

 

Brent had greeted him with a “hey” and a smile, taking a step back to invite him in.  “Make yourself at home,” he said. “The bar’s set up downstairs, food’s all in the kitchen.”

 

Jonny had thanked him and was about to wander off to find a familiar face, but before he could get away, there was a guy approaching them, smiling broadly at Brent. Brent smiled back, not as widely, Jonny noted, and cleared his throat, tensing slightly when the guy slid a hand over his hip.  “Hey,” the guy said, leaning in to brush a kiss to Brent’s temple.  He turned his head, noticing Jonny. “Oh, I’m sorry! Am I interrupting?”

  
Jonny shook his head quickly, his stomach in knots. “No, not at all. I was just going to get a drink,” he said, and he was down the hall before Brent could stop him.

 

“Hey,” Sharpy says. “Who are you hiding from?”

 

“I’m not hiding,” Jonny lies, shaking his empty bottle. “I’m...observing.”

 

Sharpy raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push. “Having a good time then?”

 

He nods slowly. “Sure, yeah. Brent’s got a great place.”

 

“It’s nice, yeah? Perfect for a party.”

 

Jonny nods again, trying to keep his cool when his gazes catches on Brent’s from across the room. Brent’s date is standing next to him, one hand perched on his lower back, and Jonny can’t help but notice how Brent leans away from the touch. He’s been doing that all night, actually, leaning away from the guy, swatting his hands away gently, smiling politley as he turned away from every kiss the guy tried to lay on him.

 

“Who’s the guy?” Jonny blurts, and there goes his cool.

 

“Huh?” Sharpy asks. “Guy?”

 

Jonny nods towards Brent, who’s turned his attention back to a couple Jonny doesn’t recognize. “The guy. Brent’s guy.”

 

“Oh,” Sharpy says with a shrug. “No idea, man. Never seen him before, and Brent hasn’t mentioned anything about a boyfriend. You’d be better off asking Duncs if you really wanna know, he’d know better than I would.”

 

“What would I know?” Duncs asks, stepping in next to Jonny.

 

“Brent’s guy,” Sharpy says, pointing the neck of his bottle across the room. “Who is he?”

 

Duncs smirks, giving a small shake of his head. “No one special,” he says, and Jonny swears he rolls his eyes. “I think they’ve been out maybe twice? If that. I’m not really even sure why Seabs invited him. It’s not serious.”

 

Jonny swallows, trying to get his emotions under control before speaking. “I don’t know. The guy seems pretty into him.”

 

Duncs laughs softly. “Of course he does. Seabs is a popular guy, he’s got money and connections. Lots of guys are interested in him.” He gives Jonny a pointed look, and Jonny wonders suddenly if Brent really does tell him everything. “Only a couple have ever really gotten his attention, though.”

 

Brent meets his eyes again, offers a small smile, and that’s it, Jonny has to get out of here. He pushes between Sharpy and Duncs, running a hand through his hair and blowing out a breath. “I’m, uh. I’m gonna take off, you guys. See you Monday, yeah?”

 

He doesn’t stay for their questions, just makes his way to the stairs and takes them two by two.  He doesn’t see Brent’s eyes on his back, nor Brent setting his beer down and excusing him from his company to follow Jonny up the stairs and out the door.

 

“Jonny!” he shouts, just as Jonny’s hand reaches for the handle of his car door. “Jonny, wait!” He’s jogging down the driveway towards him, and Jonny’s frozen. He listens to the steady clap of Brent’s shoes on the pavement, quiet when Brent finally reaches him.  “Jonny,” he says, soft and pleading.

 

Jonny lets out the breath he’d been holding and meets Brent’s eyes. “Yeah,” he says, and just like that, Brent’s hands are fisted in the collar of his shirt, pulling him in and kissing him until he can’t breathe.

 

When they finally break apart, Jonny’s shivering, both from the cold and the adrenaline thrumming through his veins. Brent leans in and rests his forehead against Jonny’s, his hands sliding up Jonny’s arms and back down again. “You forgot your coat.”

 

Jonny barks out a laugh, shivering again. “Is that what you came out here to tell me?”

 

Brent shakes his head, his nose brushing Jonny’s. “I’m going crazy,” he says, “I can’t stop thinking about you, and I know I should stop, but _fuck_ Jonny, I can’t. I _can’t,”_ he stresses, his hands coming up to frame Jonny’s face. “Wanna be with you all the _time_ , wanna take you out and hold your hand and _be_ with you.”

 

“I can’t stop thinking about you either,” Jonny says, hushed, and he leans in to catch Brent’s lips with his own in a kiss that’s nothing like the ones they’ve shared before. It soft and sweet and full of promise.

 

When it’s over, Brent pulls Jonny closer, burying his face in his neck. “What are we gonna do?”

 

Jonny shrugs, linking his hands at the base of Brent’s back.  “My internship’s over in May,” he says, and fuck, that seems like a lifetime away.  He says as much, and Brent laughs softly.

 

“I could fire you?” he jokes, and Jonny shoves at his shoulder playfully. “I know, I know.” He kisses Jonny one more time, his lips lingering as he pulls away. “May,” he says. “We’re gonna do this.”

 

Jonny nods, his heart racing. “May.”

 

He lets go of Brent reluctantly, already missing the press of Brent’s body against his. 

 

He drives home buzzing with excitement, already counting down the days.

 

 

_two years later_

 

“This is huge for us,” Jonny tells the interviewer, smiling into the camera. “We’ve had a record-breaking year, and we can’t say enough about our donors and everything they’ve done to help make this year such a success.” 

 

“Jonathan, you’ve had quite the year personally, too,” the reporter teases, and Jonny’s thumb traces the silver band on his ring finger. He smiles shyly, ducking his head.  “What’s it like to be married to Brent Seabrook?”

 

He’s about to answer when he feels a warm arm around his back, fingers gently squeezing his shoulder, brushing his neck. Brent’s hand comes up to palm his stomach under his suit coat and he grins, his heart racing like it still does every single time Brent touches him.

 

“C’mon, babe,” Brent says in his ear. “They’re waiting.”

 

“Excuse me,” Jonny tells the camera.  “My husband needs me. We’ve got a speech to make.”

 

They stand together at the podium, thanking everyone for joining them tonight and for all their support this year and in years past.  Everyone applauds as they announce their record-breaking financials, and as the speech comes to an end, Brent reveals that he has one more announcement to make. He grins at Jonny, who’s just as surprised as everyone else when a curtain falls behind them to reveal a banner donning the name of the foundation.

 

Or rather, the _new_ name of the foundation, Jonny thinks, as he stands gape-mouthed, staring.

 

“As we end one year and begin another, I’m pleased to announce that the foundation has taken on a new name, and will, from here on out, be referred to as The Seabrook-Toews Foundation.”

 

He’s beaming at Jonny, who’s eyes are suddenly glassy with tears.  The crowd erupts in applause as Brent pulls Jonny in close, whispering “surprise” into his ear.

 

“You fucker,” Jonny sniffles, without heat. “I guess this means you’re not my boss anymore, huh?”

 

Brent laughs, loud and bright, winks. “Maybe you could be mine.”

 

Jonny pulls him into a kiss. “I’m always yours,” he says, and he’s never meant anything more.

**Author's Note:**

> i'd like to do some timestamps in this verse eventually, so if you feel like you're missing out on anything, fear not!


End file.
